The One that Got Away
by Goody
Summary: It was just Shawn’s luck that Eliot was spotted by the one guy on the Santa Barbara PD who frequently checked the International Most Wanted List.


**Title: **The One that Got Away  
**Rating:** PG  
**Summary:** It was just Shawn's luck that Eliot was spotted by the one guy on the Santa Barbara PD who frequently checked the International Most Wanted List.  
**Author's Notes: **So, I'm a huge Psych and Leverage fan and when I realized that both my fave characters have the same last time, well, they had to become cousins!  
**For non-Psych fans:** Shawn is an extremely good civilian detective who once solved a crime so fast the police thought he must be involved. He lied and said he solved is psychically and now works with the police as their head psychic.  
**For non-Leverage fans**: Eliot and Hardison are Robin Hood-like thieves. They are criminals but they only break the law in order to help people who can't get justice any other way.

* * *

"Hey Lassie, wait up!"

Detective Carlton Lassiter stopped walking as he heard the familiar voice call out behind him. He sighed heavily and it came out more like a growl. Not feeling like dealing with the department pest today Lassiter quickly decided that he in fact did not want to stop and started moving down the sidewalk again at a much brisker pace.

"Lassie-face, I know you heard me. I will refrain from allowing my feelings to be hurt though as I also know you are going to stop when you realize you need my help," Shawn called out smugly as he jogged to catch up to the detective.

Lassiter actually laughed, "Spencer, I can guarantee, I will never, EVER ask you for help with anything."

"Unless the Chief orders you to," Shawn finished for him.

Lassiter nodded reluctantly, "Well, yeah, but that's the only time."

"Oh, I see," Shawn replied, still keeping stride with the detective as they passed several storefronts. "And just how did you plan on carrying back all nine of the coffee orders you're picking up then?"

The coffee machine back at the precinct had broken the day before and because everyone knew that crimes didn't get solved without caffeine officers had been taking turns all day to go out and pick up people's orders at the coffee shop down the street. It was just Lassiter's luck that it was his turn just as Shawn Spencer, psychic detective, showed up at the precinct to have one of his ridiculous visions.

But now it was Lassiter's turn to smile smugly, "I'm only getting four coffees."

"Ah, that's where you're wrong. You see, you neglected to ask the reception desk and the archives workers if they needed delicious, savory coffee and thus, your order has been bumped up to nine."

As Shawn explained he handed Lassiter a post-it note with five more drink orders written on it.

"The pineapple chiller is mine. I like it with a hint of nutmeg, a dash of cinnamon and a splash of love," Shawn added. "The love being the most vital ingredient of course … right after the pineapple."

Shawn's drink was the last one on the list so Lassiter took the post-it, tore off the bottom and handed it back to him, "Your drink, order it yourself. As for the rest, fine, you can carry. You spill one drop and you go back and pay for more."

"What do I get to do if I spill two drops?"

"Become a missing person," Lassiter replied, not in the mood for Shawn's games. He needed caffeine bad.

"Ouch Lassie, you could at least pretend …"

They were about to cross the street when Lassiter suddenly grabbed Shawn's arm, pulling him back to the sidewalk as his eyes widened in surprise.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Lassiter exclaimed with barely restrained excitement as he stared across the street.

"What is it?" Shawn asked, his energy jumping up to match. "Is it a dog wearing human clothes, because I have to say, that is just soo adorable."

"Shut up Spencer," Lassiter ordered then tilted his head to indicate Shawn should look across the street. "Do you have any idea who that is?"

Following Lassiter's directions Shawn spotted two men walking down the street towards the coffee shop they had been heading to, one was a black man, slender and tall wearing a Battlestar Galactica t-shirt, the other was a white guy, slightly shorter with a broad, muscular build and long brown hair. Shawn's eyes widened in recognition immediately – he in fact knew exactly who that was, although he wasn't about to admit that to Lassiter until he found out how much the detective knew.

"Uh, no, I don't know him but I'm getting a vague sensation of danger from him," Shawn admitted, hating to miss a chance to offer up his fake psychic intuition.

"That's the Croatian Crippler," Lassiter whispered conspiratorially as he hauled them back behind a wall.

"He doesn't look Croatian," Shawn pointed out, stalling to think. Thank god Lassie didn't seem to know the man's real name.

"Not from Croatia, he crippled the Croatian government almost single-handedly. He's been on the International Most Wanted List for the past year. The list of crimes he's committed is longer than the Bill of Rights," the detective explained.

"How could you possibly know all that?"

Lassiter's brow furrowed like it was the most obvious thing in the world, "I check the list once a week, familiarize myself with the names and faces. Routine stuff. And now I'm going to be the man that arrested the Croatian Crippler. I'll probably get a plaque."

The pure joy and adrenaline at the thought of accomplishing such a feat had the detective ripping out his gun and handcuffs and walking down the sidewalk towards the coffee shop, a proud smile blossoming on his face. That was until a hand grabbed his wrist and turned him around.

"Hold up Lassie, let's just think this through a minute," Shawn requested urgently. "That man is on the International Most Wanted list, a known killer, assassin, probably the kind of guy that takes out half a dozen men and doesn't even break a sweat. And you, the Head Detective of the Santa Barbara police force, want to arrest him … by yourself? And somehow not die?"

"How dare you imply that I can't take a fugitive into custody," Lassiter replied, insulted as he tore his arm away from Shawn's grip.

Going for a new tactic, Shawn continued, "That coffee shop is full of innocent by-standers. You go in there gun and handcuffs a-blazin' someone might get hurt."

This finally seemed to slow down Lassiter's unstoppable forward momentum as he frowned and considered this for a moment.

"Look, why don't you stay here and call for back-up, you can arrest him as he comes out. Meanwhile, I'll go inside, order up our drinks, keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn't go anywhere," Shawn offered casually, already starting to back away towards the coffee shop.

"Hey, back here. No way I'm sending a civilian in after that man," Lassiter replied.

Shawn huffed, "Lassie, I'm no hero. I have no intention of going after him, I'll just watch him and return with delicious mixed coffee drinks, promise. Besides, you can't go in. I mean, the only way for it to be more obvious that you're a detective would be to write the word 'cop' on your forehead."

After a moment of reluctant consideration Lassiter nodded while pulling out his cell phone, "Fine. Do not engage and don't forget three sugars in my coffee."

"On it," Shawn promised and then jogged down the sidewalk. As he entered the coffee shop he saw the two men he was after waiting by the counter for their drinks to be made. He sauntered up next to them and leaned casually on the counter, smirking.

"Eliot, Eliot, Eliot, you never call, you never write, if it weren't for facebook and the most wanted pages I'd never know you were even alive," Shawn said with fake disappointment.

Eliot Spencer turned at the familiar voice, eyes widening in surprise before quickly shifting to angry recognition, "Shawn, what the hell? How did you know I was here?"

"The spirits told me, it's all part of my psychic gift," Shawn explained, fingers going to his temples. "They also say that unfortunately for you the lumberjack look is not in style."

"Excuse me, who is this?" Hardison asked, very confused as he peered over Eliot's shoulder at the eccentric stranger.

"Shawn, Hardison. Hardison, this is Shawn, my cousin, who is not psychic, he's a conman," Eliot said, keeping his voice low.

"How dare you?" Shawn replied with mock hurt. "Why even now the spirits tell me your friend is deeply involved in computers in some way, in fact he's been working for hours at something very important."

Hardison's eyes widened, mildly impressed while Eliot just huffed, "What gave it away? The red eyes, the carpal tunnel or the geek shirt he's wearing?"

"All of the above," Shawn answered without missing a beat.

"Hey, this is classic television," Hardison argued defensively. "It's considered one of the greatest dramatic television shows, ever! It talks about religion and destiny and humanity …"

"Hardison, I don't care and I never will," Eliot stopped him.

"What you might care about is the fact that I knew you were here because I saw you crossing the street. Unfortunately I was with the Head Detective of the Santa Barbara police at the time, who recognized you and is now outside calling for back-up," Shawn burst out suddenly.

"You don't think you should have opened with that?" Hardison asked incredulously.

"I speak when the spirits tell me," Shawn lied. "I would recommend heading out the back. There are no other officers here yet but we're pretty close to the station. Won't be long."

"All right, thanks Shawn. I owe ya. Come on Hardison," Eliot ordered, pulling the hacker by the arm.

Hardison hesitated, despite the threat of cops, "Man, she is so close to finishing my drink. I can see her back there pouring it."

"Move it Hardison, now," Eliot demanded, physically hauling the man away to the back door.

"All she's gotta do is put the lid on!" Hardison pointed out, eyeing the delicious drink longingly before he turned to follow Eliot willingly.

"See you at the next reunion then!" Shawn called out even though they were already gone. As he turned around the twenty-something barista was placing two drinks on the counter but looked confused when she didn't spot the men who had ordered them.

"Is that a pineapple smoothie?" Shawn asked the girl with a patented grin.

"Yes."

"Is it paid for?"

"Uh, yeah."

"I'll take that, thanks," Shawn grabbed the drink and started to sip it contently. Mmm, pineapple. Yep, that was definitely his cousin.

* * *

Five minutes later.

"Freeze, SBPD, put your hands up!"

As Detective Lassiter rushed through the door in full riot gear followed closely by Juliet and half a dozen other officers the occupants of the coffee shop all put up their hands in surprise and shrunk back in fear, except for Shawn who just turned from where he had been casually leaning against the counter.

"Hey Lassie. 'Bout time. Slurpee? I don't really want it, blue's not really my color," Shawn greeted him, holding out the drink like a present.

Lassiter and his team quickly swept the small shop and found nothing, prompting the detective to round on Shawn with a dangerous glare, "Where is he Spencer?"

Shawn rolled his eyes, "He's right … uh oh."

Eyes widening, Shawn faked surprise and started peaking under tables, around corners and then finally tried to hop over the counter, "Not there, no, uh, can you, yeah, excuse me, I'll just jump over here and … not there either. Hmmm, he's not here."

"You were supposed to watch him!" Lassiter gritted through his teeth.

Leaning in conspiratorially Shawn whispered in the detective's ear, "I may have been flirting with the counter-girl. Her name's Susie, she's taking nursing. The spirits really seem to like her…"

"Spencer!" Lassiter bellowed but Shawn just shrugged and laughed with mild nervousness.

"Well, I guess that's what you get for sending civilians in first, huh? I mean, wow, that was a terrible idea ... I'm gonna go before that vein on your neck just bursts."

* * *

Later that afternoon Shawn arrived at the Psych office to find Gus already there working away at something on his laptop.

"Hey Shawn. A courier package got dropped of for you. You didn't buy more 80's toys off of E-Bay did you? Because you do not need another pair of moonshoes," Gus lectured as he walked in the door.

Shawn's brow furrowed, "Nah, I haven't ordered anything since my Glow-In-the-Dark GI Joe got here."

Looking at the writing on the package his memory flashed and he recognized it at once, "It's from Eliot."

Gus bolted up in fear like the man might be in the room with them, "Eliot? Your cousin Eliot? The guy who made Bobby Carlson eat his own homework in grade 8?"

"Yes, that cousin Eliot, and dude, he only did that because Bobby bullied Kyle Fowley into doing his math work for him," Shawn explained as he started to tear open the packaging. "Maybe it's a thank you gift for warning him about the cops."

"Why would your cousin need to be warned about the cops?" Gus asked.

Shawn shrugged nonchalantly, "Because it's possible he may be a criminal on the International Most Wanted List and Lassiter recognized him on the street today."

"What? The most wanted list? We had a sleepover with that guy in the third grade!"

"Well I'm sure he wasn't on it then, but that would have been cool. Anyway, all he did was liberate Croatia, you've really gotta hear it from his side," Shawn said as he finally got the box open. There was a note on top that he read out loud first, "Shawn, I know you drank my smoothie. You're buying me another one next time I'm in town. Thanks for the heads up – don't try to eat it, you'll break your teeth. E."

"What did he send you, a Neverending Gobstopper?" Gus joked but was leaned over the desk, curious.

"No idea, it's heavy though."

Pulling away the wrapping paper Shawn's eyes widened with euphoric glee as he reverently removed the present from the box. Gus's jaw dropped.

"Oh my god," Shawn said with slow awe. "A golden pineapple. It's quite possibly the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"It can't be real," Gus muttered looking at the massive, pure gold fruit.

"It most definitely can be," Shawn replied strongly, knowing full well his cousin made good money doing what he did. "I have to help criminals escape from custody more often. I see this being a very lucrative business venture in my future."

"And when you get arrested for aiding fugitives?"

"Eliot'll get me out, it's what he does," Shawn shrugged. "Now though, I have to go show off my pineapple to my dad. I bet he doesn't have any golden fruit!"

Gus sighed and just hoped Shawn's dad didn't ask how he got it.

The end.

Not my greatest fic ever but I have an idea for an extended, con-related crossover and wanted to test out the waters with a one-shot first. Hope you enjoyed! Please let me know if this crossover idea appeals to you, I don't want to write anything so obscure that no one will get it! Thanks!


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